


There's no living with her after this

by ColorblindCity



Category: Sherlock Holmes (Downey films), The Notebook (2004)
Genre: Crossover, F/M, Reincarnation, ally and noah, and he just so happens to look like Robert Downey Jr., and it's just a random guy who fell in love with Ally Hamilton in a previous life, and so can you, and somehow sherlock got tangled up on it, i can't tell the difference between two characters played by Rachel McAdams, so i made one the reincarnation of the other, this is fanfic so i can do what i want, though you can always pretend it's not sherlock, weird mix of actors and characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-13
Updated: 2012-11-13
Packaged: 2017-11-18 14:06:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/561877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ColorblindCity/pseuds/ColorblindCity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a fool's game to fight a loosing battle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There's no living with her after this

**Author's Note:**

> So... one day i was watching The Notebook and I let my inability to differentiate actors from characters get the best of me.
> 
> Kudos if you know what movie the title came from (no it's not the notebook nor sherlock)

We sit on the bridge, savoring the moment that we still have before the storm hits.

Beside me she is quiet, pale as the moon against a starless sky, her face hard but there's a softness in her eyes, which are as blue and as deep and as cold as the waters below us. 

She sighs a few times and contemplates the horizon in front of us, then she addresses me, voice quivering under the weight of the words she utters. 

I prompt for an obvious confession and she smiles, frail and broken, and confesses without words something I suspected but never dared hope to confirm. 

I give her a key, and I take a diamond.

Then I stand to leave and she smiles again, this time deviously pleased, and prompts for the confession I owe her.

I confess gladly, even though the confession is a sad one.

With a discreet brush of my hand on her cheek I make the evidence of her weakness disappear, then with a kiss to her forehead I give her a weakness of my own in return.

That's the bottom line, the give and take. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, a heart for a heart.

Except perhaps that day I was the one who made the loosing transaction.

\----

The next time I see her, her skin has been dearly kissed by the sun and her hair is the color of the leaves in the fall.

She's younger than I've ever seen her and lives a simpler life, she falls for a country boy and her biggest concern is finding a way to never be parted from him. 

It’s a bitter contrast to her time with me, when she was mine but not quite, and her biggest concern was to find the fastest way to get as far away from me as possible. Even so, I’m not jealous, not of this boy (who she slaps across the face then clings to for dear life). There's nothing to be jealous about, it’s his turn, not mine. I wouldn’t want one of her past paramours lurking in the shadows, coveting our joy when it is my turn to have her, so I hold no resentment for him. 

I start my way down the adjacent street, and hurry to put distance between us. I’d want privacy if it were my turn.

She has a tendency of dying young, but in this life she holds on, and I think  _lucky guy, maybe he’ll have the fortune of dying before her_ , but then I feel the distance. She has wandered off to some secret corner of her own mind, and for the first time in what I can remember of my existence I feel truly alone, but I do not attempt to follow her. 

He stands at the doors of her memory, he sits unrelenting and reads to her, he asks her to remember, and remember she does. He calls for her, and she returns to him. 

I cannot help, for the briefest of seconds, wondering what I had been doing wrong, back when I was calling her and she wasn’t coming, but I don’t let myself dwell on it. She is different in this life, she wants different things, and maybe I just had the misfortune of sharing with her a life in which it was not passionate devotion she craved. 

I wait around a little bit longer, because if I want to have another turn to have her, I must keep my lives synchronized with hers.

He, too, stays.

One morning, just as the dawn breaks, they die on their bed, together.

I must give it to him, he has proven himself worthy of her, and if I had to fight somebody for her love, I’d be honored to fight against him, even if it means I stand no chance of winning.


End file.
